The Psychic Set My Homework on Fire!
by Xxtetragramaton601xX
Summary: Fred's high school psycholgy project, turns...psychic. Just read it...


Ok…this is the first thing I've written and it took me bloody well long enough! Leave some comments; they will hopefully feed my creativity. I hope you like it. Anything from Pyschonauts doesn't belong to me and neither do any references I make to there movies.

I smeared the greasy head of the Chap Stick across my chapped lips; they were chapped because the constantly got stuck in the wires of my braces. I do this every eleven minutes, it was a habit but the school shrink told me that the Chap Stick was a sort of "security blanket". I think it's total and complete bullshit, but that's my personal opinion of course. My eyes darted across the slightly crowded classroom and I leaned back in my too small chair. I felt like an adult sitting in a kindergarteners seat, you know like their knees hitting the underside of the desk, that how I felt. I stretched out his legs and stared down at my too short school issued khaki slacks, they were freaking hideous. And my thoughts continued to wander in human psychology yet again, like every other other day I have this damn class. I had read this stuff already and passed the test, but no, they wouldn't let me jump the level. I had to sit for pre-requisite classes! The one thing I don't mind though was the…

"Bonaparte, I asked you a question." Blared the teacher from the podium in the front left corner of the rather sparsely decorated classroom.

"Can you please, repeat it, I didn't hear you." It was true; I didn't her the old crow. It wasn't like I was lying or anything.

"I wanted to know if you had a topic for your research paper." She glowed at me through her cat rimmed glasses that slid down her wrinkled old nose, so technically, she glowered over her cat rimmed glasses.

"No, I haven't. I'm torn between two topics."

"Really know, well then you can have the one I chose for you, psycho-analysis and psychics in government." She smirked at him with an angry yet satisfied look in her slightly clouded eyes. She looked like a witch, like the stereotypical Halloween witch. "Should be fine for you, you have some…expertise in this subject. It should be an easy A."

Before I could retort, the bell…rang, if that's what you could call that horrid dis. I packed up my things: spiral notebook, black pen, Chap Stick. It was always in that order; I would put them in my bag except the Chap Stick, which went in my left pocket. I have to pull my pants down a little so that they at least reached the top of my old tennis shoes, and then straighten my red tie. That was the color tie juniors at Kingwood wore red. Lastly I pushed my glasses up the bridge of my nose and brush my hair out of my eyes. This seemed time consuming but it only took me a few seconds, I have it down pat. It was fifth period, which meant lunch. Lunch was possibly the worst time of day, everyone was perky. Breakfast people were asleep and dinner people were rundown thinking about homework. Lunch, people were aware. Awareness made people notice other people. I preferred to go unnoticed, you know under the radar. At least there was Boyd to talk to, he enjoyed flying under the radar, so to speak, too. We met in third grade, he was being bullied in the playground for being…chubby and I told them that if the didn't leave him alone I would turn them into toads. That works in third grade, not high school. These days, were both pushed around a little. I earned myself a pretty good nickname, Rushmore. It was the glasses and braces. It's not like I'm 5' 3". I'm actually six foot seven. Boyd didn't have one; they just messed with him because he was kinda heavy. Then there was Crispin, but no one smart messed with him. He earned himself a little bit of a reputation for giving death threats that he could possibly carry out. We all sat together, two losers and homicidal maniac, at the small table in the back of the cafeteria. Most of the time we wouldn't even talk when we ate, just listen to music and ignore each other. My music of choice these days was Say Anything or The Hush Sound, a little bit of Kimya Dawson here and there but mostly the first two. So, for forty five minutes my dim little dank world had a sound track. I had a special diet because of certain foods I cannot eat; I was forced to be a vegetarian pretty much. My diet was primarily tofu, fruits and vegetables because of the lactose- intolerance and diabetes. The track today for the fake chicken was Resounding by Say Anything. My ex-girlfriend liked that song, so I do still. It's been three weeks and I'm still pining for her. She sat with the "good" girls, even though they were far from it. They were like every other girl, except they went to church every Sunday to repent for what, or who, they had done the night before. Not that Emily was a slut, we never had sex. Crispin likes to think we did but we just talked about music and school and golf. Yeah, we play golf.

"Oi! Wake up Fred," Crispin interrupted me halfway through my steamed carrots and string beans. "What's your topic for psych?"

"Government" was my simple reply between spoons full of the carrots.

"That blows man." He went back to eating his chocolate pudding, how I hate him.

That was the longest conversation we have had in lunch since freshman year when Crispin threatened to gut us both with a plastic spoon. You get used to the death threats. Though, "I'll bloody spoon ya to death" is pretty funny…now. I was munching on a apple when Em walked by and waved, I love it when she waves and her long brown hair kinda flips on the ends. She wanted help with math or chemistry or something. I dumped my tray and walked out to do some research on my stupid project.

Yeah, it's short but it's only the first chapter. I have it alllll planned out!


End file.
